The Harp
by Steel-Cable Strong
Summary: A mysterious harp...a curious boy, and a knowing mother who tells the tale to her son. Based on a collection of drawings.


Chrissy NievesCore 310/14/2008_The Mysteries of Harris Burdick_

_The Harp_

Fifteen-year-old Ashton Stine sat on his family room rug, legs crossed, staring at the fireplace, watching the flames move back and forth, left and right. His border collie, Skippy, crawled onto his lap, his tongue drooping out, panting.

Ashton's eyes narrowed as he stared at the fire. "Tell me another one, Mom. What other stories do you have?" He turned his head, shifting his position to look at his mother, who was sitting in her favorite chair reading a book.

She looked down at her son, her red hair gently falling in her face. Her hand softly grabbed the strands of hair and pushed them behind her ear. She set the book down, her lips pursed. "Let's see…Oh! I have one," she said.

His mother had his full attention; he stood up, sitting on the sofa near his mother, Skippy following.

His mother began, "When I was a little girl, your aunt, Lucy, and your uncle, Emmett, and I would run to the lake down the road and into the forest," she pointed out the window, showing the direction of the nearby lake.

She continued, "And we would swim there, too. The water is so amazingly clean and pure. And on winter days, we would always play there, throwing snow balls and making snow sculptures," Mrs. Stine smiled at the memory. "And one day. Your grandmother Marie would tells us stories of the lake there,"

Ashton cocked his head, "Like the ones you tell me?"

Mrs. Stine nodded, "Like the ones I tell you. But she told us of this beautiful woman; she was very young and very gentle. And she used to bring her harp with her to the lake to play her songs. But one night, she was nowhere to be found. She vanished without a warning. Some thought that she might have drowned in the lake, but they found no body there."

Ashton was absorbed into the story now, his eyes wide and a small grin on his face. Even Skippy seemed interested.

"But, my mother told us that once this story is told, the person whom it was told to will begin to hear a soft melody during the night. The melody is the last song that the beautiful woman played. And if you go to the lake at the time you hear the song, you can see the harp's strings being played…but nobody is playing it. Well, nobody that you can _see_." His mother finished, picking her book up, getting ready to head upstairs to bed.

"Wait, Mom!" Ashton called. His mother turned back around, eyebrows up. "Did you hear the song? Did you see the harp?" He asked.

His mother shrugged, "I heard the song, but I didn't see the harp."

As his mother kissed him goodnight, and he traveled up to his room, he wondered if he was going to hear the song.

He laid in bed, eyes closed, trying to sleep. Skippy curled up on his bed, snoring softly. _Come on,_ Ashton thought, _play the song. Play it…play…_

Right as he was about to fall asleep, he heard a soft noise. It was faint and odd, but beautiful. Musical notes plucked softly, and traveled to his room.

Ashton's eyes snapped open, excitement rushing up his spine. He immediately jumped out of bed, slipping sneakers on. He put a leash on Skippy's collar, "C'mon boy!"

Ashton quietly exited the house, and as soon as he was far enough from the house, he burst into a run. Skippy galloped beside him, his ears flopping.

The notes of the song still floated in the air, luring Ashton to the source.

Eventually, he came upon the lake. The moonlight cast a glowing effect on the water, giving it a shimmer.

Ashton's eyes scanned the area, searching for the harp. "W-Where is it?!" He almost screeched. He felt his throat swell, disappointment rising.

Suddenly, Skippy began barking, causing Ashton to jump. "What is it, Skippy?" he asked him. Skippy barked to the east, and Ashton followed the direction of his bark.

_So it's true_, he thought, _it's really true._

There, he saw a tall, silver harp. It stood on a rock near the edge of the water, its strings gently pulled by an invisible figure. As the strings were plucked, ripples were sent soaring on the water, reaching the sandy dirt near Ashton's feet.

Ashton smiled, "Good boy, Skippy!" He praised his dog, giving him a belly rub. He looked back up, watching the harp play.

_I can't believe it! I can't wait to tell Mom!_ He thought excitedly. _I saw the harp._


End file.
